Heart of a Monster
by angelfishlex
Summary: Khan is a cruel man with a wounded spirit who despises everything around him, holding a dark love for a singer, Nyota Uhura. He will have her as his bride, no matter what the cost. She belongs to him and he will do anything to make her realize so. Set in AU, loosely based on Leroux and ALW's 'Phantom of the Opera'. Read & review, please!
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: This story is not set strictly in the Star Trek universe. I am not a hardcore Trekkie and know little beyond the recent JJ Abrams films. This is based on the story 'Phantom of the Opera' by Gaston Leroux. And this WILL NOT have singing, like in the Webber musical. **

**Prologue**

He loved her and now she had betrayed him.

She would not get away easily without comeuppance. How could she be so ungrateful to him?

He had given her everything he had in his possession. His home and his heart…

He had suffered from cruelty and indifference his whole life. She had been the one to shine light upon the darkness in his empty soul.

Ever since he first laid eyes upon her elegance, heard her beautiful voice and observed her graceful body twirl on the stage, he knew she was his purpose for being alive after such a long void of oblivion.

He had let her know of his intentions, but she failed to understand why he had gone to so many measures to ensure that she stayed close.

He had tutored her and aided in furthering her career, making sure she had the best treatment available. She was young and eager to learn more.

All he had desired in return was her love, her companionship. Her mere presence in his life. To be near her was a blessing in itself. The briefest of moments in which he held her in his arms were ones he cherished countless times in his memory as he continued to plan his vengeance.

Everyone involved in thwarting him would pay dearly, starting with _her_. He would take away her freedom; keep her imprisoned in his – their—home. She would be protected and adored by him, never wanting for anything.

Even if she had to be shackled with chains to the wall, then so be it.

She was a precious entity that belonged to him and he would never release her to the hazards of the merciless world that treated him as an abnormal monster.

He traced a fingertip along the soft fabric of the wedding dress, enjoying the mental image of his love wearing it over her lovely figure. It was made be the perfect fit for his bride and nobody else. The dress had been placed to rest over a mannequin, waiting for the recipient it was intended for.

Everything was in preparation for his mission.

Soon, he would have her forever and nothing would stop him.

He was a conqueror and his prize would not escape his sights. She would soon be his, adorned in the bridal dress fashioned for her beauty and would comprehend that the world she knew would vanish once she joined him.

She would fear him no longer once she discovered how he would allow the rest of the world burn to ash if she only said the word. He would be prepared to do anything to have her acceptance. Just a small piece of her heart…

If she continued to hate him, his rage would build until he would disintegrate into madness. Accept him or loathe him, it mattered not.

Regardless of what she felt, he would have her as his wife. Let the remainder of the earth be damned…


	2. A Ballerina's Song

It was the year 1899 and the Central London Music Company was having a chaotic rush of a rehearsal.

Twenty-one year old Nyota Uhura hurried down from her room of the ballet dormitories, her lifelong friend Carol Marcus close on her heels.

"Nyota, hurry up! Father and Pike will be upset if we're late again." The usually soft spoken blonde urged her friend as they finally came to the bottom of the steps that led them to backstage.

"I'm sorry I slept longer than I meant to, Carol." The darker skinned woman tried and failed to hold back a yawn.

"This is the third morning in a row you have overslept. You also missed curfew last night." Carol began to scold her friend in a well-meaning manner.

"I'm sorry. I've just been practicing longer lately." Nyota sighed, annoyed at her friend's persistent way of nagging her habits.

Before Carol could ask her any further questions, the strict and irritated voice of Leonard McCoy interrupted their conversation.

"Ah, Miss Uhura. I'm glad to see you've finally decided to join us for rehearsal." The good manager raised his brow in an accusing manner toward Nyota before his brown eyes softened at her defeated expression. "Very well. I'll allow your tardiness this week to go, but no more of it."

"Thank you, Mr. McCoy. It won't happen again." Nyota kept her eyes on her pink ballet slippers. Carol smiled encouragingly in her direction.

"Keep your chin up. Everything will be right once this show is over-with." The cheerful blonde placed her hand upon Nyota's shoulder, showing her support.

"Everybody listen up!" McCoy's voice echoed around the auditorium, catching all the actors', dancers and stagehands attention. "In case you have not heard earlier this morning, I have both good and bad news for us. I'll begin with the bad. Unfortunately, our lead soprano has been caught with sickness due to apparent pregnancy. Therefore, we have apparently lost our star for this godforsaken play."

Nyota was both shocked and relieved at this news. While she felt sorry for the woman's current situation, she certainly did not envy her attitude. Violetta Nichols was a selfish snob who only sought out the center of the spotlight in all of the London Music Company's events.

"Well, that will be one less parasite to worry about." Carol muttered under her breath, making Nyota glance at her in annoyance.

"The good news, is that we have found two patrons that will help fund out future events. May I present to everyone Mr. James Kirk and Mr. Spock Grayson." McCoy announced the names of the two men as they both stepped into sight.

The name of the latter man caught Nyota by surprise. She knew that name from years before…

"Carol, I think I know him." The petite black haired woman whispered in awe, more to herself.

Coming into sight of the two ballerinas, the two men appeared to be complete physical opposites. James Kirk held an arrogant and self-assured air to himself, with brownish-blond hair and the blue color of the afternoon sky in his vibrant eyes.

Mr. Spock Grayson himself was indeed one to be seen. His dark hair and brown eyes contrasted with the pale of his skin. His tall stature and build of his shoulders would not allow any opponent to cross him easily.

"Thank you for coming, gentlemen. I apologize that it seems to be quite a mess around here." McCoy held out his hand for both men to shake.

"Its no trouble at all, Mr. McCoy. I believe I'm going to enjoy the theater and the company it provides." Kirk was the first to speak, his eyes glancing in the direction of Nyota and Carol.

"Jim, may I remind you that we are here to aid in funding the company with profits for entertainment purposes, not to fulfill your more primal human needs?" Spock rebuffed out of embarrassment for them both.

"Yes, I understand." Kirk shrugged in a nonchalant way.

"Mr. McCoy, I must apologize for my adopted brother's behavior. And for additionally disturbing your rehearsal." Spock briefly locked eyes with Nyota, barely a sideward glance that hardly registered with the young woman, it was so quick.

"Of course. We need to practice for _Hannibal_, considering that we open for it in a week's time, damn it." McCoy growled out that last statement as he began to lead the two men away from the stage.

As soon as the three men were out of earshot, Nyota found the strength to speak again.

"Carol, I believe I knew Spock back when we were children. My father and I visited the city Vulcan when I was only thirteen. We met and found much in common very quickly. I guess you could say we were childhood sweethearts. He used to confuse my last name with my first. We would always find something interesting whenever we would meet. But it all stopped after father became ill…" She trailed off as the devastating memory invaded her mind.

"Well, perhaps now could be your chance to rekindle what you had with him." Carol suggested, seeing her friend's brown eyes sparkle with tears.

"I don't believe he would remember me, let alone recognize me after eight years." Nyota only hung her head in disappointment.

Carol could not find any more words at the moment to comfort her. They could only face the rest of the grueling day that awaited them of dancing and singing for the chorus.

.

.

Nyota's day was almost over, with one final announcement to await from the managers, Christopher Pike and Alexander Marcus, the latter being Carol's father, something she never wanted to gloat about.

At last, it all came with one final daily meeting before dismissal for the evening.

"Our closing statement for the night, ladies, is how we are to handle the dilemma of our absent leading star for the role of Elissa in _Hannibal_." Pike spoke to the line of ballerinas standing in a row beside one another, looking into their eyes for sincerity.

"If any one of you think you are ready for this challenge of trying out for this role and desire a chance for fame and glory, feel free to step forward, please." Marcus finished in a commanding tone, harsher in comparison with Pike's somewhat gentle lead-in of what was to occur.

"Nyota Uhura could sing it, Father." Carol blurted out while Nyota felt herself freeze in paralyzing disbelief. "She has been taking lessons from a special tutor."

"Really? Who might that be?" Pike stepped in to question Nyota before Marcus could interrogate the anxious woman.

"I…I'm afraid I don't know his name, sir." She managed to stutter out before she forgot how to form coherent words.

"Father, allow her to sing for you. She's the best out of all the girls here." Carol smiled brightly and wrapped her arm around Nyota's slim shoulders in an adoring embrace.

"Very well, then. Nyota, you may select a chorus from any of the songs of your choosing from the upcoming program and we will see how you may progress." Pike assured the young ballerina as she tried to keep from shaking. He ignored the incredulous glare from Marcus.

Nyota only nodded in response to her employers and took a step forward, clearing her throat. She opened her mouth and the sound flowed from her voice, flooding the auditorium with a heavenly sound meant only for the angels above to hear…

.

.

Later that night, Nyota fell asleep in her bed with a smile on her face, feeling blissful for the first time in what seemed forever.

The young woman was so deep in her slumber that she failed to note the air shifting above her inert form, a shadow falling upon her body, ever vigilant in its guard over her.

Two turquoise eyes gazed in fond manner on her as she slept. As silent as a ghost, the looming shadow reached down and placed on her bedside table a rose, the stem without thorns tied with a scarlet ribbon and the petals blackened into a darker hue of unnatural trait.

The unknowing future starlet stirred in her sleep, fitful in her dreams as a stray strand of ebony hair fell on her forehead. Her dark phantom hesitantly used his gloved fingertip to brush it back into place, being careful not to disturb her peace.

_Congratulations, my dear. You have made feel me more triumphant in this one day than any other could have in one lifetime. You may know my voice, but you will soon know much more. Your innocent hands hold my frozen heart and that makes you the most beloved treasure to me. You are my love and my world._

With those parting thoughts to her, the specter disappeared and returned to the darkness.

**AN: Yes, I'm aware I used the surname of Spock's mother as his last name in this story, but it was what I could come up with in this setting. Please leave your thoughts down in the box below… Thank you!**


	3. Drown in Darkness

The performance was a delightful success on the night of the play's debut. Nyota herself had been pushing harder with lengthened practice sessions to memorize all of the musical numbers and dancing that was required of her.

And she had begun to notice the arrival of a rose every morning leading up to premiere night. Each morning when she awakened, the sweet scent would welcome her senses to a feeling of flattered joy. When she attempted to question Carol about a potential mystery suitor, the athletic blonde knew next to nothing about it.

Part of her could not help that perhaps Spock Grayson had recognized her and wished to call on her…

She had to put that away from her mind for now as she stood at the center of the stage, having finished the play with her concluding aria as the leading lady of the evening. Her voice soared to measures she never knew she was capable of and she felt invincible. The final note of her song hung in the air within a brief few seconds of silence before the audience burst into enthusiastic applause.

Flowers of every variety were thrown at her feet as the ballerina bowed in gratitude and triumph, her shimmering white dress contrasting with the exotic brown of her skin. She recalled as never feeling this happy in her entire life.

And her happiness was all due to one being…

How she could not wait to escape to the quiet chapel, away from the crowd and thank the one who had helped her along on the path to success.

The next hour or so was a blur to Nyota as she said 'thank you' to every person who congratulated her, not really hearing the words they were saying. She did not want to seem rude, but all this attention was putting some pressure and strain on her mind as well as her energy.

An opportunity to get away finally came when McCoy rescued her from a discussion about music with an enthusiastic theater critic, Montgomery Scott. While the man was nice enough, she was really starting to develop a headache if she did not get some rest soon.

The petite starlet quickly slipped away backstage into the empty corridors of the building, leading up to the small chapel where one could come to pray or seek temporary peace. Smoothing out the skirt of her costume dress, she knelt down on her knees and lit a candle on the candelabrum. After blowing out the match, she bowed her head and closed her eyes, saying a silent prayer to her late parents whom she hoped were watching over her.

Then…came the voice she had longed to hear for the entirety of the day.

"_Bravo, my dear. Your voice has made the angels weep with envy. Pure perfection." _ The voice of her tutor rumbled through the air around her, causing a shiver to flow up her spine like a painless electric current. So powerful and forceful with intimidating baritone…

Her eyes opened in surprise as her attention caught onto his words of praise. A small smile of acknowledgement graced her lips as she tried to find words of thank towards her mysterious apparition.

However, another voice broke in before she could speak to her master of invisibility. How she longed to know more about this being of speculation…

"Nyota Uhura, why in the world are you hiding in here? You were absolutely glowing on that stage tonight!" Carol's bright face welcomed her sight as they embraced in a hug. "I really wish you would tell me about this tutor of yours? Has anyone else even heard of him? Do you know who he is?"

"I'm afraid I don't know Carol. But I have a suspicion…" Nyota briefly glanced down at the stone floor beneath her before looking back into her best friend's eyes. "After my father died and I was brought here to live, I would often come down here alone to light a candle for him. I heard a voice from above, surrounding me as if it were coming through the walls. I…I think it might be some kind of spirit sent from Heaven to protect me."

Carol's blue eyes ignited with disbelief and concern. "Nyota, do really believe something like that? I highly doubt there is a ghost guarding you wherever you go, let alone teaching you to improve your singing."

"I know it sounds childish, Carol. But, I feel something whenever I hear his voice. It's like nothing I have ever heard before in my life." The ebony haired woman stood up onto her feet as the blonde did the same thing, taking the steps toward the chapel entrance. "I feel…alive, like I've been asleep for a long time and have finally been awoken."

Carol placed her hand gently on her friend's arm. Nyota turned her eyes up to the ceiling, as if she was searching for something in the shadows and dark corners. Her breathing began to hitch as goose bumps took shape on her bare arms.

"Nyota, I know it's been a tiring night for you, but you're talking in riddles. This does not sound like you at all." Carol led her away from the chapel and toward the hall of dressing rooms. "Your hands are cold and your face is losing color." Her voice was pitched with genuine concern.

"I…I'm fine, Carol. I just need to rest after tonight, and perhaps have something to eat." The anxious singer banished the paranoia from her mind and smiled at her friend as the presence of McCoy greeted them.

"Miss Uhura, you were astounding up there." A rare smile of real pride lit up his face as he opened the door to her dressing room, the décor flooded from floor to ceiling with bouquets of flowers from ardent admirers. "You would not believe how many people have come asking to talk to you about your career in the future. It seems you've made yourself quite the belle of the ball."

"Thank you, Mr. McCoy. I'm glad tonight was a success. But, I really am feeling exhausted." Her gaze drifted from the play manager to a certain object on the table, in front of the glass mirror.

A single rose, the thorns removed and the petals a bright pink. Around the stem, a red ribbon was tied around it. She failed to hear McCoy speaking, to someone she had no idea of. Her fingers shook as they reached for the flower and held it in their grasp.

She gentle pressed it with timid tenderness to her chest, trying to slow down the erratic beating of her heart. Could this repeated gesture be the trademark of her secretive guardian…?

All sound faded from her ears as she sat down at the vanity seat in front of the table and tried to relax her mind. Time seemed to either freeze or flash forward. Which one, she had no concept of at the moment.

She was alone now. No voices outside her door, no commotion of the staff or patrons. Everyone had most likely retired for the night. Nyota was at last proceeding to calm down, contemplating the significance of the roses meant to be a gift from someone who cared for her.

Suddenly, the door to her room burst open with a crash. Nyota turned in startled surprise to see Alexander Marcus stumble through the doorway, a bleary glaze set in his eyes. Dread bubbled up within her stomach as she tried to appear calm.

"Good evening, Mr. Marcus. Is there something wrong?" She asked, keeping a brave tone to her voice as she stood in a formal posture before her employer.

To her dismay, Marcus closed the door as she fought the urge to back away. Even sober, he was a not a simple man to deal with.

"Miss Uhura, I wanna know who the hell this secret teacher of yours is. And I think you know exactly who, you just don't wanna tell anyone." The burly man slurred his words as he advanced closer to her, blocking her venue of exit.

"I…I don't know what you're talking about. Let me go see if Mr. Pike wants to discuss it as well." She hastily made an excuse to escape, to get help before the situation escalated.

Before she could make the first move, her wrist was snatched up into his hand, gripping it with a tightly clenched hold. The numbness already started in her fingertips.

"No, sweetheart. You're…gonna answer my question. Or else you're gonna be thrown out onto the street like the common harlot you are." His breath was rank with the stench of liquor as Nyota was trapped between him and the wall. She began gathering oxygen in her throat to scream, but Marcus' other hand upon her throat prevented her from doing so. "You're not even good enough to breathe in my daughter's direction."

Nyota's attempted cries for help were strangled from her as her exhaustion and fright from her current predicament gave way to her vision clouding at the edges.

Then, Marcus' weight was pulled off of her as her body slumped to the ground, the blackness overcoming her sense of sight. The sounds of grunted struggles, a savage growling and an awful crack of breaking bone erupted in her ears all at once.

What on earth was happening…?

She lay upon the carpet of the dressing room, sensing an intruder near. Her body shivered from fear and an overwhelming instinct to escape and succumb to unconsciousness. Nyota's head felt heavy as the pain pounded against the inside of her skull.

The sound of boots walking toward her alerted her ears to listen, hoping it was not Marcus come to finish his drunken interrogation. Thankfully, she felt gentle and strong fingers pick up her wrist, feeling for her pulse. Everything was fading now…

A savior had come for her…

A large palm cradled the back of her head, feeling for the bump forming at the base of her cranium from her fall to the floor. She coughed out from her throat, moaning in delirium as the energy abandoned her body and she surrendered to the ether of faintness.

.

.

Nyota was treading the waters of sleep's surface, expecting to still be in her dressing room. But instead she was somewhere else.

Somebody was carrying her, in powerful arms that held great strength as if her weight meant no more than that of a rag doll. While she had kept her slim figure as a ballerina, she suspected that she was heavier than the average suitcase.

To further her awareness, the vibration of a heartbeat sounded in her ear as she rested against a well built chest, her head positioned to stay on his shoulder to make her comfortable. Her eyes remained closed as she was reluctant to allow her rescuer to know that she was semi-conscious.

She had no knowledge of how long she had been unaware of what was happening. It mattered little in the moment as her anonymous protector walked further in his trek to take her to a secure area.

Where was that, exactly?

She was tempted to flicker her eyes open, glance at where he was taking her through the veil of her long eyelashes, but the memory of what caused her to be in this state came back to her mind in a flash, dotting her vision in faded colors of darkness.

At last, warm air welcomed her cold skin as the arms holding her ceased their gentle grip, her body being laid on a soft cushioning of sorts. The same hand that cradled her head took extra care to be sure she rested upon the pillow meant to massage the injury that may or may not have rendered her concussed.

Another rasping cough erupted from her throat, almost in an involuntary way as a velvet blanket was drawn to shield her from the freezing temperature of the journey taken while she had been smothered in a terror induced sleep.

On reflex, her eyes fluttered open, desperate to face the friend or adversary who had taken the risk of rescuing her and bringing her to a place where nobody would know where to look for her. Nyota used her arms to sit up from her horizontal position of lying down before a voice broke her train of thought process.

"Slowly now, Miss Uhura. Try to refrain from speaking." A deep, yet soft voice commanded in a manner leaving no room for argument as her eyes struggled to adjust to the muted light.

It was the voice… The figure who took her from the dressing room. It was all connected in her mind now. Carol had been right all along… He was not an immortal apparition after all…

Her arms struggled to pull herself up in a sitting position before she gave up in pathetic weakness, information and memories invading her consciousness.

Nyota's eyes focused on the tall, dark figure kneeling by her side, half of his face concealed by a hooded cloak, allowing only the gem irises of his eyes to glow. She could not help but be unsettled by the way he looked at her, as if he had never seen a woman before.

Yet, he took so much effort in transporting her to safety, in ensuring she suffered no harm in his rescue of her life.

"I urge you not to be frightened, my dear. You are perfectly safe here." That incredible voice snapped her out of her thoughts as his eyes caught her gaze once again. "And take reassurance that the last thing I would do is allow harm to come to you."

Nyota's heart threatened to burst out of her chest, not knowing whether to feel afraid of this man whose voice proved that he was a man, not a spirit or to thank him greatly for saving her. Another part of her longed to chastise herself for believing in such childlike fantasies of ghosts and angels coming to her for guidance. How could she have been so foolish?

"I suspect you have many questions to ask me, but I'm afraid that will have to wait until after you get some rest. You have had a quite an eventful evening." His voice held concern for her as she finally noticed a wine glass in his gloved hand, holding some kind of black liquid.

"Fear not, Nyota." He spoke her first name, ridding his words of the courteous formalities. "This is a harmless sedative that will help you sleep. But, you may have some water first if you desire it, to heal the internal turmoil of your throat."

How she longed to ask him everything that was on her mind, but her body's need for recovery overwhelmed that urge. Nevertheless, she felt she could trust this man's promise that he would keep her safe and that she was in no danger while she was in this strange abode.

Nyota only shook her head in response to his offer of water. All she wanted now was to sleep and forget about her problems and expectations.

"Very well. It has not the best taste, but it will put you into a peaceful state of sleep." A reminder of her to trust his words rang in her pounding head.

In a hesitant manner, she reached for the glass and brought it to her lips, feeling the brief brush of his fingertips as they skimmed the base of the cup. Ignoring the sudden feeling of shock from his sudden touch, she drank the bitter liquid and waited for the drowsiness to kick in.

The hooded man took the glass from her hand and slowly leaned over to help situate the ballerina against the pillows. "Once you awaken, I will oblige to answer whatever questions you have, Nyota. All I ask is that you remain calm."

She only groaned in exhaustion as her eyelids drooped and her breathing slowed into a steady rhythm. Before she completely lost awareness, he heard the faintest of whispers from her weakened voice thanks to his acute hearing.

"Who are you? " The one question managed to escape from her sweet lips as he witnessed the woman before him relax into dreams unknown to him.

With a deep sigh of defeat and exposure, he drew back his hood. The experimental burns that ravaged the upper half of his face pulsated as he pushed down the inferno of anger threatening to enrage him. To calm himself, he drank in the addicting sight of her, the woman he treasured beyond all hope.

Listening for evidence that she indeed was in the abyss of sleep, he watched the slow rise and fall of her bosom, her eyelids closed in an entrancing way to him.

She could never know all of him, not if his plan was to come to fruition. For so long he had watched her, taught her from afar. Now, she was here in his home.

His brilliant mind coming to a blank slate of what the next step was, the strange phantom figure went to Nyota's side and carefully lifted her into his arms again, making his way to the room he had prepared for her when she came to know of his true intentions.

The man's cold heart beat foreign sensations of warmth inside him at the notion that she fit perfectly in his arms, as if she were made to be in them. While he was not pleased with the circumstances that led to her being brought to his home, injured and vulnerable, he had to settle with what was given.

She was safe now and that was what mattered. He gazed momentarily about the room, almost forgetting that she lay asleep in his hold as he recalled the hours spent in preparation of Nyota's personal chamber in his modest home. Every accessory had been acquired with her satisfaction and comfort in mind. Dresses and gowns, trinkets of jewelry, hairbrushes and perfumes of every kind… He would make sure she had everything she could ever desire.

Glancing down at her calm expression as she slept, he walked over to her bed and placed her upon it, taking care to remove her ballet slippers and the bands holding her hair in that unacceptable ponytail. She looked glorious with her raven black hair long and naturally flowing.

He managed to place the sheets and comforter to rest over her body, covering near up to her chin. The man had initially meant to bring her to this room first upon arrival, but he preferred the living den was best where he could keep a close eye on her condition.

Although he dreaded the wait for her to heal from the shock of Marcus' attack on her, he felt it was necessary to adjust to her real presence in his residence. She would know as much as he permitted her to. For he was not like other men.

In other words, he was a genius and a monster, one who was deeply in love with her. With a final look of quiet adoration at her serene expression of tranquility, he pulled a cord hanging next to the bed and stepped back. A black canopy of veiled material, made for a queen, enveloped the bed, surrounding Nyota's unconscious form and further emphasizing her beauty in his eyes.

Before he took his gaze away from her to leave, he succumbed to answer her. To give her his identity as a human man who could not face the world.

"Nyota… my name is Kahn."

**AN: Well… You know you wanna give me something in that little box. Please? Thank you! Hope you're not disappointed by the lack of Spock in this chapter…**


	4. London Calling

The sun rose and met the horizon for another warm morning welcomed in the city of London. While everything appeared to be peaceful, it failed to register with the patrons and employees of the Central Music Company.

Panic and questions ran amuck.

Christopher Pike had found his business partner and friend Alexander Marcus unconscious and hung-over with a severely broken arm…all the while passed out on the floor of a certain missing singer's dressing room.

The interrogation went on for hour upon hour, with Pike, James Kirk and Spock Grayson present, the two latter men being the main financiers of the establishments.

"Alex, I'm trying to understand this here. You were the last one to see Miss Uhura last night. Obviously you somehow ended up in her dressing room and you must have seen her at some point after the performance." The older man stared at his partner in a skeptical whilst glancing at the man's broken arm, positioned in a sling courtesy of the local surgeon.

"Christopher, please. I'm telling you, last night is a complete blur to me. I'm sure Miss Uhura retired to the ballerina dorm rooms after the performance reception like everyone else." Marcus rubbed his forehead as if trying to rid himself of a headache.

"Mr. Marcus, I find your scenario unlikely to have occurred considering Miss Uhura has been missing for the past twelve hours. The consequences of your inebriation will have to wait until she is found in a safe condition." Spock declared, rare concern to be seen in his dark eyes at the situation. He had found out about his childhood friend being the rising starlet and had sought to reconcile with her prior to being called away for business matters.

"Spock, you never know what these kinds of women are capable of. They're experts at hiding when they want to, especially if they possibly have a secret lover." Jim offered as a possible suggestion to relieve his brother of worry. "At least your mask is stoicism is finally starting to peel away."

Pike glared at the younger man in a silent stare to quiet him when the door to the manager's office burst open. Carol came in, her blonde hair twirling like she had run a fair distance.

"Miss Marcus? Is something wrong?" Pike gently questioned the slim woman, seeing the determination set into her blue eyes.

"I found this on the floor among the pieces of broken glass in Nyota's dressing room." She held in her hand a light pink rose, like a torch leading to the first passage in a labyrinth. "I think this may have to do with her disappearance."

As if on instinct, Spock marched over to Carol and took the rose from her slender fingers, examining the details. He found the ribbon tied around the stem to be quite intriguing. A possible clue…

"Miss Marcus, did Miss Uhura ever mention meeting with someone after the premiere last night? A suitor to call on her, perhaps?" Spock asked the light-haired ballerina in as gentle a way he could while also sounding serious.

"No, she has not told me about anyone of notice. But, she has been acting out of sorts lately, talking about a tutor of hers. I don't know any more than that, I'm afraid." Tears began to emerge in her luminous eyes as concern for her lifelong friend welled up in her chest.

"Do not worry yourself. Miss Uhura will be found safely and soundly." Jim spoke up in a tone of sincerity, walking over to the attractive dancer and laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder. A moment proving that James Kirk's heart was deeper than that of a notorious womanizer.

"Why are any of you worried about her, anyway? She probably couldn't handle the pressure of stardom. In this world of music industry and competition, you either kill or be killed. We can find another dancer who's pretty and has a decent voice. This Negro whore isn't worth…" Marcus' sentence was cut off abruptly.

Carol's hand met her father's face in a sharp and hard slap to each cheek. In immediate response, Marcus grabbed her wrist into his uninjured hand, similar to how he had threatened Nyota hours before. The following silence was deafening to the other men's ears, all of whom stood in stunned disbelief. The hardened anger in Jim and Spock's faces was not difficult to see as Carol glared daggers at the man who raised her.

"Alexander, you have crossed the line. I dismiss you from your position as manager. James Kirk will take your place alongside Mr. Grayson as both patrons of finances and assistant manager. You have the remainder of the day to pack your things and leave this facility." Pike ordered in a strict manner, holding his head up with authority as he stood by the two younger men.

"All of you are being ridiculous." Marcus muttered as his daughter pulled her wrist out of his tight grasp and tried to ignore the brief throb of a bruise forming to take shape in that area.

"I am ashamed to bear your name as my own. If you have done anything to harm Nyota, I shall never forgive you. I never want to see you again, _Alexander_." Her voice choked with a mixture of tears and seething whispers at the uncharacteristic hiss of her father's birth name.

To Carol, he was no longer her parent, but a prejudiced stranger she was frightened of.

Not another word was said as Marcus stared his only child down, mentally deciding whether to punish her for daring to defy him or surrender to the humiliation of being fired. He chose the latter. With one final fierce look at the three noble men and his traitorous daughter, the bitter older man turned away and walked out the door, wincing at the pain that brought back to mind the shattered bones in his arm.

.

.

In an underground chamber beneath the building, Nyota's heavy eyelids opened again, the fog clearing from her muddled subconscious. The soothing sound of a piano being played instantly made her alert as she sat up in shock. Looking around at her surroundings, she noticed the thin veil of the canopy enveloping the length of the bed she laid upon.

The room itself was gorgeous, decorated for a woman borne from privilege and luxury, not a lowly chorus girl such as her. A shiver snaked its way up her spine as Nyota reached over to a cord hanging by one of the bedposts and pulled, the canopy coiling up and rolling into itself until stopping when it was tight enough.

She was able to have an improved inspection of the mysterious room now that her vision was clearing up. A golden vanity table with an oval shaped mirror sat across from the foot of the bed. Next to the door was a polished mahogany wardrobe, no doubt filled with garments fit for a noblewoman a grand title to her name. The wall itself was a crimson color, similar to that of fresh rose petals.

Her noticeably bare feet reveled in the fuzz comfort of the rug as she stood up in a slow manner, testing her balance to see if the sedative had worn off enough for her to walk without stumbling.

Then, the memories and panic both gathered into her mind as she recalled the events that brought her to this mysterious room.

Her employer, a man she had previously trusted no less, had brutalized her with intoxicated menace…

A strange hooded figure preventing Marcus from harming her any further before spiriting her away…

Awakening in the darkened safety of the man's living den…

The man with the voice of…_her tutor_…

And had he killed Marcus before taking her here?

A foreign sense of deceiving intent and fear for what this man may have wanted with her welled up in her throat, but she swallowed it down and tried to remain rational.

If this man was indeed a friend or foe, panicking would only make matters worse for her. She now had no choice other than to confront him and ask him everything on her mind.

The chill in the room was difficult to ignore as she wrapped her arms around herself, glancing around for some kind of shawl to wear. At last, she saw the white piece of clothing, placed over the head of the vanity seat, in the ideal spot for her to take note of.

Enfolding the shawl around her shoulders, she caught the chance of her reflection being in the mirror. Last night had taken a toll on her surprisingly. In internal horror, she spotted the shapes of bruises splotched along the brown column of her throat, hideous and mocking in the reminder of what betrayal had occurred to her.

Nyota fought back tears of humiliation, hanging her head in shame until another token of her shadowed savior on the vanity table caught her eye. A piece of paper with neat, distinguished writing in black ink addressed to her…

Taking the parchment into her trembling fingers, she held it up and her ears picked up on the absence of the piano keys sounding in the nearby area.

_**Miss Uhura,**_

_**I know you must feel disoriented and fearful, awakening somewhere you have never been before. Allow me to assure you that you are in a safe place and away from that vile Marcus where he cannot find you. My intentions for bringing you here are strictly for your protection and nothing beyond those of any honorable man. Should you need anything, only inquire of me and I shall do my best to provide for your happiness.**_

_**-Your mentor & companion,**_

_**K. **_

Feeling emotionally conflicted with the written words, Nyota clutched the note in her fingers and tried to calm herself. Should she believe this man's claim that he would not harm her?

Before she could evaluate any further, the click of a doorknob alerted her to the door of "her" bedroom opening.

A sudden wave of dizziness forced her to sit down in the cushioned chair, focusing on meeting her tutor face to face for the first time now that she was lucid.

He walked in with a dignified posture, hands behind his back as he greeted her with a brief bow. The way a gentleman would cordially encounter a lady of his fancy…

"Good morning, Miss Uhura. I observe you have received the note meant for your eyes. I'm pleased to see that you have awoken. You have been sleeping for about twelve hours straight. I trust that you slept well, my dear." The thunder of his British baritone voice commanded her senses to be on high sentry, keeping attention on viewing him before her very clear sight.

"Y-yes, sir. I feel quite refreshed after you gave me the sedative." She could not prevent the stutter at the beginning of her sentence, nor fight the impulse to immediately answer him.

He appeared to be quite tall, an inch or two over six feet, with a solid build to his body. His pale skin contrasted plainly with his charcoal black hair, short and slicked back in the current fashion of the Englishman at the turn-of-the-century. His clothes were simple to her limited knowledge of the male wardrobe. A black suit jacket and buttoned shirt aided to further emphasize his ethereal aura and strong form.

For her feminine visual skills, it was hard to decipher if he was handsome or not. His eyes were a scorching blue and green combination, surrounded strangely by a black mask concealing the upper half of his face, covering from the middle of his nose to the edge of his brow. Nyota could only see the lower sides of his prominent cheekbones and the Cupid's bow shape to his lips along with the tip of his slightly disproportionate nose.

"Now that you have had the opportunity to read that note, you know that you are safe and may ask me anything that is on your mind, correct?" He inquired her, his booming voice still remaining with a gentle tone despite the rumble it produced in her ears.

"Yes, sir. I have knowledge that you brought me here as a refuge and I do have many questions to ask of you." She stood up to her full height, courage bubbling up in her chest as the man scrutinized her stance of womanly confidence, however temporary it may have been. "You claim to be my tutor, a figure I have placed as my confidant in my time of need. While it was foolish on my part to believe that you were any sort of angel sent to be my protector, I might ask why you lied about being a real man of flesh and blood."

She folded her arms across her lower chest, keeping her chocolate brown eyes locked with his turquoise irises of intrigue. The man before her fought a smirk at seeing her so vibrant, so filled with a fiery spirit he had only witnessed on rare occasions. His aching heart swelled with pride at seeing her standing up as a real woman of a genuine goal and purpose.

God, how he loved her…

"Nyota. You need not call me 'sir'. I am Khan and am honored to have your exquisite presence in my home." He nodded his head to her in respect, being so bold as to call her by her first name to her questioning expression. For the moment, he was an advocate of impropriety. He spoke in a familiar ghostly pitch that threatened to overwhelm her common sense. "You must be famished. Come, I will give you a meal to satisfy your hunger and proceed to explain everything."

The strictness with which he suggested contained little time for nonsense. With an elegant move of his arm, his hand was held out for hers to take, an offering. A large palm and long, slender fingers awaited the arrival Nyota's hand to join with it.

The woman naturally hesitated, taking any order from a stranger. Damn the societal rules of etiquette…

Logically, she should have demanded he give her answers. That was what the rational portion of her mind, her survival instincts, were telling her. Yet, there was something about the man, his irresistible voice that she had come to know over the years of her transitioning into true womanhood.

Their eyes stayed connected, waiting to see what the other would do. He was remaining motionless, making no position to drag her out of the room in an impatient manner. If he had no sense of morality at all, he would not have bothered rescuing her from Marcus.

Nyota reached out towards his hand, fighting the tremble slithering up her arm. Her fingertips brushed his palm before resting her smaller hand in his.

Khan felt the jolt of electric ecstasy rattle his insides as she voluntarily made physical contact with him. The image of her hand placed in his was enough to bring his despairing heart even more into a state of energy. The contrast of their color in flesh only made the moment more profound for him.

His fingers tenderly closed to rest their tips on her knuckles. Thanks to his impeccable sight, it was a moment of bliss for him.

Nyota herself felt her fear evaporate, deducing this man's body language and the way he spoke to her. A man who stayed true to his word… Wanting to think as a woman who followed her intuition, she knew there was no turning back with this dark master clutching her hand in his grip.

She unwittingly placed her life and welfare in his unpredictable capabilities.

As for Khan, he knew it was one step closer to revealing his heart to her. Only Nyota could make his dream of love and acceptance take flight.

**AN: I know not a lot happened, but this story is more of a progressing slow burn. Its gonna take time for the relationships to blossom. Please review if you come across this story. That's all I ask. Thank you all! Also, if you're curious as to what Nyota hears on the piano, listen to the track, 'London Calling' from the Star Trek Into Darkness score. Its brilliant and lovely!**


	5. A Prisoner of Love

Each step Nyota took across the floors of her savior's home, her hand clutched in his, felt heavy and full of great effort. Her heart pounded as if she were about to step off a cliff. A sweat threatened to break over her forehead, but she forced herself to push the fear away.

_Being scared will only get you nowhere. As soon as you find out this man's motives, uncover the best way to escape._

Her eyes absorbed everything around the rooms. The humble dining area where a meal had been prepared shortly before her awakening sat waiting atop a small table built only for two occupants. One chair sat before the plate of food, the dish covered with a napkin to keep it hot.

She briefly glanced at the sitting area where she had been brought upon arrival, the sight of the black sofa reminding her of the delirious state of fright previously taking hold of her senses. The stone fireplace welcomed her peripheral vision, the faint heat radiating from the flames grazing her skin for the quickest of seconds.

Khan glanced back at her every few steps, a brief look at her face as their eyes found each other again, his perceptive gaze surveying her observations of his home.

"I'm aware it may not seem like much compared to the room you woke up in previously, but I preserved only the best for your desires, Miss Uhura." His voice shook her from the thoughts of self assurance occupying her mind.

"If you do not mind me asking…Khan…" His name slipped from her mouth before she could recollect her mind as a rationalist, in the presence of a man who may or may not have pure intentions toward her. "The bedroom to where you had brought me here…it is meant to be mine?"

Her hand was released from his as he stepped forward to pull out the chair at the table for her, gesturing Nyota to sit down for her awaiting meal. His heart began to increase its beating at the sound of her precious voice saying his name. He had never heard anything more heavenly…

"Yes, my dear. That room was built specifically for your comfort and privacy." Khan pushed in the chair gently as she sat down, noticing the shaking in her knees as her legs gave way and allowed her to perch onto the seat. He was suddenly anxious for her to eat and gain her strength back up.

"You mean…you have been planning to bring me here, wherever this place is, all along? It was only convenient for Marcus to attack me and for you to appear out of thin air and rescue me?" Her disbelief overshadowed the terror of being away from the people who cared for her along with the mysterious specter of deceit.

"Of course not." A growl rumbled through his voice as he denied her statement in vehemence. "Nothing about you being harmed is beneficial to me."

He faced her as he retorted back, trying to keep his temper under control. She appeared to expect such a reaction from him as she stared up from her sitting position, dark eyes locked onto his in an accusing glare. The untouched plate of covered food sat between them, the looming column of a man and the petite ballerina fearing for her current state of health and captivity.

Khan's hands were clenched into fists, motionless in his internal battle to keep his animalistic nature under control. He had to remind himself that frightening her would only destroy them both. She had to know that nothing she did would ever give him just cause to hurt her.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, reigning in the urge to shatter the nearest object with his bare hands.

In his mind, he imagined snapping Alexander Marcus' neck. How he regretted merely breaking his arm. However, the priority of Nyota's safety had weighed heavier against his need to kill the man who possessed the mindset to say that she was unworthy.

The eventual revenge Khan would receive with Marcus would be satisfying, indeed…

Opening his eyes again, he unclenched his hands and looked once more at Nyota, who held the silverware in her hands, anxious to be eating in a stranger's home. Not wanting to stall her any longer, he cleared his throat to break her from her apprehensive trance. She was frozen like a doe caught by the hunter.

"I apologize, Miss Uhura. I just cannot stand the notion of you being in danger, especially by that man who does not deserve to even look at you." A slight tremor violated his hand, his fingers twitching in uncontrollable anxiety for a brief second, being missed by the average human eye.

The clang of a fork against the plate alerted Khan to her presence as her emotions overcame the woman sitting before him.

"Khan, or whoever you claim to be, what I really want to know is why you have lied to me about being an immortal ghost when you appear to be just an ordinary man." Nyota dropped the silverware onto the forgotten dish and stood up in a fast motion, almost too much for her equilibrium to sustain.

She unconsciously pressed the palm of her hand to her forehead as a wave of blurred vision broke through her eyesight. Her appetite vanished as the cold sweat beaded her skin, the heated temperature of her body combined with the chill of fear mixed in a sickening concoction.

A groan escaped her mouth before she could stop herself from exposing her weakness. Her eyes closed as a bout of nausea intruded her stomach.

"Nyota!" Khan's voice flowed through her ears, as she realized the sedative had not completely worn off. The tall man towered over her as he cautiously placed his hands on her shoulders to keep her steady. "It's acceptable to be afraid. It's true that I am not a spirit sent from Heaven to guide you to happiness, but only a man who…"

His found he could not continue as he watched her succumb to fear. Her hands tried to push him away, and it appeared that he predicted the woman before him would take that action. His grip tightened ever so carefully on her shoulders. Being many times stronger than her, Khan had to measure how much to hold on if he wanted to prevent from hurting her. How easily she could bruise…

"Nyota, the only way to be free of your fear is if you trust me." His hands slid away from his shoulders, gliding themselves down her arms until they held both of her hands. "As I promised before in my written words you, I only want to keep you safe."

_Safe from the rest of the world… Safe with me…_

It was only then when he noticed her breathing beginning to hitch in rapid gasps, bordering on hyperventilation. He had to act fast…

"Nyota, close your eyes and focus on my voice. Do as I say and I swear you will remember that it was I who taught you to sing above those who failed to see your talent." His voice purred directly at her face, his ever-changing eyes commanding her to do as he said.

She slowly began to calm her breathing and closed her eyes, wanting to forget that she was trapped in an unknown location with a masked man.

"Where you are standing, the man before you is one who desires to show that he cares deeply for your well-being. And rest assured that I did not kill Marcus. I know his daughter is a dear friend of yours." Nyota's heartbeat returned to a normal rate as he whispered those words to her. "I have made sure Pike and the lothario Kirk give him 24 hours to leave the vicinity of the Central London Music Theatre."

_For her sake, I will be merciful this one time. Unless Marcus fails to comply…_

"I am the one who made the audience bow at your feet hours before, throwing tokens of adoration onto the stage in praise." His tone lulled her into a peaceful state of serenity as she ceased shivering and kept her eyes closed, causing him to feel relieved at the sight of her calming down. "I have watched you grow from a child afraid of her own shadow into a woman who recognizes something in herself despite the hardships she has endured in life."

He recalled hearing the occasional racist terms aimed at her from some of the older dancers over the years. They never failed to anger him and drive him even further to prepare his home as a shelter of protection for her…and as one of permanence, he could only hope.

Khan watched as Nyota's posture relaxed in front of him. Her shoulders began to slump as he moved to stand behind her. He was purposefully sedating her with his voice to ease her mind.

"My dearest Nyota, soon you will be safe from the cruel world that dares to label those who are different." His mouth neared her ear, further drugging her senses into a fogged delirium. He was so close to her…and he had never felt more alive in his life. "I daren't hope that you will feel the same as I, but you will soon know that there is nothing I will not do for you."

She was sinking fast and he acted in a quick manner.

With a swift movement of his arms, he bent down hooked his forearm under her knees and swept her up, his other arm cradling her upper back. When she rested against his chest, Nyota unexpectedly enfolded her arms around his neck, surprising Khan in her actions. He almost became still in his stance, holding her close in his grasp, contemplating her sudden change in mood.

Nyota could not think straight around this man. His hypnotic voice, so familiar to her over the years, made her trust every word he said. Despite the brief flash of anger displayed to her only moments before, his speech of caring for her above all else moved her to an irrational portion of her mind. Perhaps she was turning insane and now saw no reason to stop. This man knew everything about her and desired to keep her…but in what sense?

"I offer you everything I have Nyota. Not as a ghost, or as your mentor. Only as a man in love with you."

Those words from his lips, poised an inch from her ear, was the last sound she heard before falling asleep in her daze, in the inescapable grasp of her sanity's manipulator, Khan.

.

.

He knew he had to take this opportunity to take her back up to the surface of the world above. His body heat combined with the cloak he wore would sustain to keep her warm on the trek back to her dressing room. A part of him knew it was wrong to twist her will into the reverse position of listening, but he was desperate for her to not fear him.

His ultimate demise would be if she saw what lay underneath the mask. The origin of his eternal turmoil…

How he had loathed everything in his life prior to her arrival in it. The fact that his mother had died giving birth to him. What little he knew of his father remained to be found other than that he had not bothered to name his son, devastated by the loss. Khan's coming into the world had been earlier than anticipated, thus giving his mother a difficult labor. After her death, the father wanted to be rid of the infant, giving it away to a man who appeared to be sane, but was truly anything but.

The man was a deranged professor of science, fascinated by work of human beings and the numerous ways one could die. As the baby in his care grew, the only luxury given a name, the experiments grew more elaborate. The fact that a small newborn could survive an early birth drove him into obsession. The scars became permanent, but hidden for the child as it grew with a miraculous survival instinct.

Then, when the boy, Khan, was ten years old, the professor had too much to drink. The acid ravaged his face, narrowly missing his eyes. The pain was excruciating, so much that the need to escape overrode his desire to finally kill his tormentor.

So, he had run away, finding shelter in the sewers and cellars of various homes until he had found the Central London Music Company. Time had become a blur to him throughout the years, days and nights meaning nothing to him except surviving day to day.

Until, she had come along and made him stop to appreciate true beauty. Perhaps, he could find happiness as a man, if he had somebody to care for.

Khan knew it was dangerous for a man like him to fall in love. At this point, his heart was liable to break into a pile of shards. And now he held his very lifeline in his arms, hesitant to release her to the world above his home, but knew that he was beginning to gain her trust.

As he stepped through the dorm room mirror with Nyota, still asleep, he noticed the sun beginning to descend beneath the horizon. It was perfect timing since everyone was still occupied with their duties. The woman sighed against his shoulder, causing him to glance down at her lovely face. He dared to lean down and touch his forehead to hers. Just the brief contact was enough to elate him.

"Khan." She whispered his name, as if she knew he was as near to her as possible. Her eyes began fluttering open again as he moved to the bed deemed hers and laid her down, making certain her head was on the pillow. How badly he wanted to caress her face, assure her that she was preserved from anything that would dare to jeopardize her.

"Nyota." He used her first name to alert the woman lying so vulnerable before him. "I've taken you back to your dormitories. I hope this proves that I was not holding you as a prisoner. My home is at your disposal, should you choose not to be afraid of me."

"It's not _you_ that I fear." Her voice managed to choke out before managing to hold her hand in his, in a willing fashion.

Both were stunned by her sudden action. The simple gesture of holding hands, making contact. Nyota closed her eyes again, wanting to sleep in her own bed as she felt this man's hand holding her own, accustoming to how his touch felt.

Exhaustion, not being forced by a potent drug or baritone voice, overtook her as his hand gently pulled away from hers and the parting words to her floated in the air. The darkness of her vision only had the one sentence said to her as he disappeared.

"_I love you, Nyota Uhura. Everything I have done is for you alone."_

**_AN: Love it? Hate it? Wrote this late at night, so its not the best. Please review and comment! Love you guys!_**


	6. Deal With the Devil

With every passing hour, Carol began to grow more anxious with her current predicament. Her own father had been justifiably humiliated right in front of her and her best friend had disappeared under the most suspicious of circumstances. Now, her lilac dress tightened itself around her slim frame as she darted up the steps to the dormitories, the parchment of paper clutched in her throbbing fingers.

The blonde ballerina's heart pounded as she recalled the note received to her and the newly appointed managers Kirk and Pike, along with Ambassador Spock. The ebony ink was probable to smudge her palm as the sweat beaded her skin with anxiety. She had never recalled being so shaken up in her life.

_**Dear Sirs Kirk, Pike and Grayson,**_

_**I am pleased to discover the dismissal of Mr. Alexander Marcus in the wake of his barbaric behavior toward Miss Uhura. It would be wise to not question her safety in the hours following her departure. She is in the best care possible and will be revealed to you as soon as her security is overseen. I urge you to obey the instructions with the heaviest of cautions. For the performance of 'Il Muto' in four weeks' time, Miss Uhura will be given the lead role of the Countess. Her voice does not deserve to fade into the background in favour of amateurs. Should this simple command be disregarded, a dark wave of fear will overcome every single person who occupies this facility. **_

_**I await the results of my consultations, gentlemen.**_

_**Signed, K.**_

**_Additionally, to Miss Carol Marcus, I assure you that no harm will befall you or Miss Uhura should darkness descend upon the eve of the managers' stubborn disposition. I thank you wholeheartedly for being a good friend to my protégé. _**

That final note meant for her eyes caused her brain to over think the simple words this mysterious shadow had written. She had been right all along and she was petrified with terror and confusion.

Her trembling hands found the doors to the ballet dorms, all the white beds empty except for one feminine figure sitting on the edge of the mattress, the back of her costume dress facing Carol's eyes. She instantly recognized the flowing locks of shiny black hair and beautifully colored complexion of which the blonde was secretly envious.

"Nyota." Carol could only murmur her friend's name, stunned speechless at her sudden reappearance with a jolt of relief electrifying her heart until the dark-haired ballerina turned around to face her.

The tears streaming down her cheeks and the soaked fluorescence of her brown orbs alerted Carol to act as the note instructed. If she failed to be the comfort Nyota needed, she could become a target of this deadly guardian that kept her dear sister-friend underneath its suffocating wing.

.

.

Spock Grayson was insistent on seeing Nyota Uhura with his own two eyes after hearing of her safe return to the premises. Frankly, James Kirk was quite shocked to find his brother so determined to follow his more emotional instincts.

"Jim, I'm aware that Miss Uhura may need time to recuperate from the trauma of the previous night's events. However, as someone who has not forgotten this woman since the last time we met, I find I can make an exception in making certain of her well-being. If she expresses her desire for me to leave, then I will."

The normally stoic man of privilege held a light of rare worry in his dark eyes as they set their focus upon Nyota's dressing room door, more public than the dormitories. The regular routine of the company had been going on about with the daily duties required as James Kirk gave Spock an encouraging pat on the shoulder before departing to the managers' office.

Spock's perceptive gaze landed on the ornate mahogany wood of the door, carved in precise detail of the kind of person meant to occupy such a luxurious space. The young man approached the bordering surface separating him and the woman who held his concern and knocked upon it with three quick taps using his knuckles. His breathing stilled as he awaited a response from the other side.

"Yes… Come in." There was a pause in the choked whisper emerging from Nyota's voice that had entranced a majority of the audience at the premiere of _Hannibal_. It only drove him further on his need to make sure she was faring well.

His fingers twisted the brass doorknob, opening to the numerous pieces of decoration and floral gifts sent as good graces to those who had favored her performance. Finally, his sight caught hold of Nyota herself, sitting before the vanity mirror, staring at her reflection as she twirled a familiar rose in her fingers. A token of awareness and forewarning…

"Miss Uhura." He came within reach of the shaken soprano, speaking her name at a volume that she could hear. His hands ached to reach for her, a rare act of sentiment on his part, but the drive to care for this woman overwhelmed the usual urge to push the vulnerability of feelings away. "Nyota"

He spoke her first name to gain her attention, no matter if she responded in surprise, anger or both. All he wanted was some reaction that she knew of his presence. She turned at the sound of his voice and their eyes met for the first time in years…

Little did they know that they were being watched, sharp ears listening to every word being spoken, observing every gesture of reminisce and platonic affection. A pair of luminescent eyes painted with indescribable color burned with envy from the secret passageway of large mirror in the room.

Khan glared with murderous fury at this intruder. Who on earth did this man think he was, to suddenly take it upon himself to insure Nyota's safety? From what he could gather of their discussion, Mr. Grayson and Nyota had been childhood friends, having been separated due to different social classes and wanting to avoid the racial scandal of being seen with someone of her "kind".

After all, one did not make a romantic companion of the rare and exotic. It was simply not done.

Despite the threatening eruption of rage building within him, Khan could not help but wonder what she had meant when she had whispered to him that she held no fear toward him. As he pondered the possible notion of Nyota losing small pieces of her sanity, his ears picked up on the finishing words of the conversation between his beloved student and this infuriating idiot.

"Spock, I promise you that I only left last night because I had to take a walk. I lost track of the time and hurried back to the dormitories." Nyota's pitch in voice held a note of false conviction, causing Khan to become puzzled as to why she was lying straight to this man's face, especially since he had written a letter addressed to Spock himself to inform him of Nyota's whereabouts.

The lack of believability in the lie was insultingly palpable to the point that even the ignorant Kirk would see through it. Khan focused then on Spock to decipher his reaction to her claim of last night's events.

The tall man before the singer leaned forward toward her, his eyes locking upon her neck. Khan felt himself tense up in a pounce-like stance, preparing to allow primal nature to overcome his human senses. He would not stand for any man to lay their hands on the woman bound to him by chains only he controlled.

Khan would make certain no potential rival would unravel her from the binds he had tied her with. She would not be touched or looked upon with amorous adoration by any male but him. Only now could he witness how she was succumbing to his influence and the pride bloomed in his veins as she progressed in those few seconds from a mere protégé of innocence into a prodigy of cunning.

"Then how would explain the bruises about your neck, Nyota? I suppose you did not take to madness and harm yourself." Spock raised his eyebrows, displaying his skeptic reaction to Nyota's behavior.

Khan held back a growl as he noticed the attitude Spock was holding to her. The very gall of him… It took everything Khan had not to burst through the mirror and snap his neck, quick and easy. However, her words made him remember to listen, to hang on everything she was saying in this moment.

"I have a condition where I tend to bruise very easily. They will heal in a matter of days. Spock, I truly appreciate your concern for me, but I have returned and require some time alone to gather my thoughts. I also apologize for your worrying about me as my friend, but I feel now is not the best time for us to be seen together." Nyota looked straight into Spock's eyes as she backed him down, not condoning his sudden need to supervise and interrogate her. She held her chin up and never lost her gaze with the upper-class man before her.

She was lying for him and Khan silently reveled in the bliss he felt. His clever honey-tongued vixen…

"Nyota, I do not find a single thing about your story to be plausible. As your friend, as well as acting financier of this company, I intend to find out who is sending you the roses and the threatening notes to Mr. Kirk and Pike." The irritated tone to his voice alerted the ballerina to find another point of defense.

"The roses are no concern of yours. In fact, you have no right to meddle in my business. Now, I think you should leave, Mr. Grayson. I do not want to keep you from important matters that need your attention." She crossed her arms in front of her chest, still grasping the blood-red rose in her fingers.

"Very well, Miss Uhura." A condescending inflection entered the sound of his voice, the manner in which he spoke to her. "To you, I only present this problem as one who cares about your welfare, not as a man meant to make you feel inferior. I hope you not isolate yourself for too long. There is an ominous shadow lurking inside the walls of this building."

With a final nod to Nyota, Spock turned away and left the room, closing the door behind him.

As his footsteps faded into silence, the only noise that welcomed her ears was the gasps of desperate breathing and the pounding of her heart. She was alone again, vulnerable as she became aware of another presence watching her. Taking a gulp to gain her voice, she swallowed and formed the first words that came to mind.

"I know you're somewhere near, listening. I saw the note you wrote about me to the managers." Nyota gazed up at the ceiling first, then to the surrounding walls until her eyes landed on the long, oval-shaped mirror against the wall north of the door. "If you show yourself to me now, I promise I will not cower away. My condition has improved since you returned me to the dormitories, so I feel that we can have a more civilized conversation."

Khan considered each word with great attentiveness, battling the urge the chuckle at her use of the word "civilized". There was little that was civil about his personality, but he took perverse pleasure out of masquerading as a man born of the times, one with a broken face and a nonexistent inkling of compassion.

"You are correct, my dear. Apart from that insolent fool, I rather enjoyed witnessing your defying of his negligible behavior. It was the most amusement I have received in many years." His voice controlled her actions as he spoke. Nyota walked toward the mirror's glass with slow, careful steps. "Now, I want to take this chance to explain my true intentions if you will kindly turn and lock the door. I would not want any unwelcome visitors to interfere."

The ebony-haired singer stood straight and went to do as he said without question. Except, as she reached for the knob, she whispered to Khan. "If I do not obtain the lead role in the next play, how do I know you will not harm Carol?"

"Miss Marcus has been a good friend to you ever since you came to live here, Nyota. She will remain untouched should everything fail to fall into place." Khan genuinely meant what he said to her in that moment. He placed his gloved hands upon the glass surface of the mirror and began to push his way through the opening as Nyota turned from locking the door.

He stepped onto the carpet, as quiet as a sinister predator stalking his prey. Their eyes connected once again with the fateful first glance as a lonely man in love and a woman vying for a defining place in this world.

Nyota studied him as he stood before her, towering and graceful in stature. He was a man nobody dare cross. He reached up and removed the black hood from his face, revealing the eyes she remembered as striking enough to keep her frozen in place, the same black mask hiding the deformities of his past.

In that room, in that hour, they were merely two people cast out by society for being different.

"Nyota, I give you the opportunity to ask three questions. Ask anything you desire and I will give you the honest truth with no delays." His deep voice was at a calming volume, soothing her into a sense of safety and confidentiality. "Then, I will explain what I have planned for you and I in the following weeks."

She took three shaky steps closer, looking him up and down from head to toe, evaluating how he walked the short distance to close the space between them, being pushed together, wanting to know what the other was thinking. For a split second, Nyota saw something else flicker like a spark in his eyes, a brief plea for mercy, for her not to fear him, to not flee in terror.

Almost as if _she_ was frightening_ him_…

Nyota found just the minimum amount of confidence to look right into Khan's eyes as she asked the questions.

"Have you been watching me in the years I've lived here?" She tried to conceal the anger in her tone, keeping it down to an irritated pitch.

"Yes, but only to make certain of your protection. Some of the stagehands have a habit of eyeing the women of this building in a disgusting manner. That mirror I just emerged from is how I was able to know of Alexander Marcus attacking you." He briefly glanced back at the mirror with a snarl as the memory assaulted his mind.

"Will you explain to me why you wear a mask?" Her hand flinched upwards in a motion to reach for his face. Khan was able to catch the quick movement just before her fingertips could grasp it. His longer fingers clasped around her wrist, attempting to be firm without harming her delicate flesh.

"Consider this as a warning, Nyota. One day, I will tell you the tale of this wretched mask, but you must _never_ remove it under any circumstances. It is the one thing standing between you and the beast that lies dormant within me." A venomous hiss poisoned that final sentence as the words crawled through her ears. "You must never lay eyes on the monster that I am."

Nyota battled the urge to struggle away from his grasp, but was overthrown by how his fingers removed themselves from her wrist, both of his large hands moving to cradle her own. A gesture of forgiveness and vulnerability…

"Are…are you really in love with me, Khan?" She could only whisper her final question.

"Yes… to the point of near madness. However, I am aware that you are still absorbing the truth of my true identity." He continued to hold both of her hands as he led her over to the vanity chair, motioning for her to sit down. In a posture that most would consider submissive, he knelt down on his knees before her, presenting no signs of force or intimidation. "I know you do not feel the same way, but I possess hope that one day you will."

Nyota's eyes darted around as she tried to keep her breathing under control. She was not sure whether to be flattered or frightened by this knowledge that he was in love with her. Even though she had known Khan as an invisible being for years, she hardly knew him as a man. What would he do if she were to refuse him?

"I do not expect you to return my feelings tonight or even tomorrow. Do you recall earlier today when you said you do not fear me? I dare to ask you if you really meant such a claim?" He was beginning to grown weary in this position of submission, but he had to keep up the façade for Nyota's sake.

"Yes, I remember I said such a sentiment. I do not fear you as a man, but what you are capable of doing. If I am not given the lead role in the next show, you will spill blood upon the stage. I do not wish to be responsible for it. How can you wish for me to love you back if you are willing to murder in my name?" The tears of fright began to leak down her cheeks as Khan unclasped her hands and took hold of her elbows, pulling her back up into a standing position.

It was the closest she had ever been to him, a sovereign king prepared to rope in the foreign princess as his chosen queen, however deadly the method of taking her would be.

"Since I see the prospect of my threats upsets you, I offer a compromise between myself and you, my dear Nyota. If you agree, there will be no other casualties within this facility. I make this promise for you alone." His voice wrapped around her mind in a silken wave of comfort, causing her to forget her fears, even those of the man holding her.

"What is the bargain you offer?" She asked, anxious to see what her part would be. As a pawn or player, it would be a dangerous game of opposing chess pieces.

"Every night at dusk, following the debut of _Il Muto_, you will meet me here in this room and come with me willingly down to my home. There, we will work to improve your voice and prepare you for stardom. Everything in my home is welcome for your use as my honored guest." His hand, still covered by the black fabric of his glove, hesitantly released her elbow and reached up to her own face.

By instinct, Nyota awaited some form of pain to accompany what he was about to do, but the soothing motion of his hand stroking her cheek caused her to sigh out a breath of quiet panic and another sensation she did not quite recognize. His touch was so careful and the shiver coursing down her spine proved that she ought not to be horrified by their dynamic.

"I see you continue to fear me on some level. If you will allow me to display what I feel for you, my dear, you will believe what I say. I would rather die the most agonizing and slowest of deaths than expose you to any harm I am capable of committing." His fingertips skimmed down the length of her cheekbone as her eyes opened again, showing that she was coming back to her senses. Either way Nyota selected, she was his Persephone, destined to be buried alive with him underground for eternity.

"If I consent to this bargain, will you spare the employees of this building?" She choked out her question in a weakened undertone.

"Yes. A promise to you is worth keeping." His fingers traced the outline of her chin with the other hand, as if he were touching the most fragile porcelain.

"Then, I agree to your terms." With those words Nyota sealed her fate as she made her choice move in this game of obsession and manipulation.

Khan smiled a triumphant grin as he won the first round. He hoped she would make the more fatal choice wisely in their time together. She would either be pampered in a palace of joy and luxury, spoiled with jewels and gowns or be chained in misery with rusty shackles and imprisoning bars with him as her tyrannical jailer.

As a beaming bride or caged songbird, she would be his most treasured prize until his dying breath.

**AN: Guys, I'm really giving up hope on this story. If you can, please review! It really helps. And feel free to add suggestions, as well. Happy Holidays!**


	7. Into Battle She Goes

In the managers' office, the exasperated voices of Christopher Pike, James Kirk and Spock Grayson could be heard by anyone who passed by the closed doors.

"Mr. Pike, I know Miss Uhura received a standing ovation for her debut, but this could only be the beginning when we start following the orders of this invisible maniac. That letter for us could have been written by the woman herself. I assume she's clever enough." Kirk paced around the room in an anxious manner, glancing toward the two other men.

"That's ridiculous, Kirk. Miss Uhura deserved the praise given to her without any signs of favoritism to show for it. However, this is the first time these letters have really begun to leave me uneasy." Pike sat at the front of his desk, cupping his aged hands together upon the wooden surface.

"When I went to visit Miss Uhura, her behavior appeared to be very peculiar. She would rarely look me in the eye and sounded as if she had no desire to be speaking with me at all." Spock folded his hands behind his back, standing in a straight posture as Pike and Kirk listened with great interest. "When I asked her about the night she disappeared, I could instantly detect the lie in her voice. Something, or rather somebody, is influencing her mind."

"What should we do, sir? Give in to his demands? I heard some talk at the gala after the performance that Miss Uhura would not last long as a leading star due to her…ethnicity." Kirk chose his words carefully as Pike glared with a burning stare at the younger man.

Spock shared Pike's course of reaction and turned to lock eyes with Kirk, fixing the light-haired Lothario with a warning look of intimidation. Before the tall man could verbally respond, the door opened to reveal the slim figure of Carol, ever the messenger.

"I…I'm sorry to interrupt you gentlemen." She began with a hint of timid pitch. "But, Miss Uhura wanted me to inform you that she has rented a flat in the nearest building to the company. She will intend to stay there during the evening after rehearsal for the next few weeks so she has a proper place to calm herself."

The attractive blonde stood before the three men staring at her with curiosity. She continued on as she felt the poisonous lie build in her throat like an unpleasant taste.

"Please, you must trust me and not allow this problem to interfere with your duties as managers of this establishment. I wish you all a good evening." With an unusual confidence in her stride, Carol turned and walked in grace out of the room, the burden leaving her shoulders and leaving the stunned men alone in silence.

Instead of heading to the dormitories as she intended, the blue-eyed dancer made her way to Nyota's dressing room…and to the mirror where she knew _he_ would be.

Since Carol had never considered herself a great actress, she could not help but be proud of the way she would manage to keep a straight face whenever legends of a spirit roaming the halls would emerge in conversation.

How little everyone knew of her secret…

Her fingers pushed away from the glass of the mirror as she lifted up the skirt of her dress and stepped through the threshold, allowing herself entrance to the dark passageway. Naturally, the shadows engulfing her sight should have frightened her, but she knew this was the only discreet area where they could meet in private.

"You should possess a valid reason for intruding upon my territory, Caroline."

The familiar baritone rumbled and echoed through the walls surrounding the woman as a match was ignited in her trembling fingers.

"_You_ should know that you cannot threaten the managers with your demands, which will only serve to escalate the notorious legend of a ghost haunting this company." Carol could feel the moisture of the stone floor beneath her feet soaking the bottom of her ballet shoes.

The sound of boots upon the ground alerted her ears to the sound of him walking toward her. Closer…and closer until she could see the turquoise mixture of his eyes.

"Your presence here only serves to vex me and leave me less time to prepare for Nyota's nightly stay in my home." A hint of sarcasm appeared in his tone, briefly causing Carol to grin before she became serious again.

"I promise, I only came to say that the new managers will be on your trail if you are more vocal with your threats. And I must add that mentioning me in your latest note of correspondence did not help in the matter of Nyota warming up to your trust." She raised her eyebrows in a skeptic attitude as the eyes approached closer.

Finally, his masked face came into view of her tiny light. His mouth turned into a displeased frown and a growl emitting from his throat.

"We have already made a separate bargain where I promised her no harm would befall anyone on the premiere of the next month's show. Little Caroline, you and Nyota are the only two people I have ever cared anything for." A rare shine of fondness lit up in his vivid eyes and he looked down at the blonde woman before him.

"Dearest cousin, why must you concoct such a plan for my friend? You cannot win her like a prize in a competition." Carol looked down at the floor, away from his eyes. His bare fingertips lifted her chin and bound their stares, one mind trying to read the other.

"I am not _winning_ her. I intend to show her that nobody will treasure her as I do. Nyota is the reason for everything I have done since I first laid eyes upon her." Khan's fingers released her face in his rare display of affection as tears began to soak her blue orbs.

"And yet, you came close to killing my father… your uncle!" She whispered in a hiss.

"I wish I _had_ killed him, the senseless drunk that he is. The bruises healing on Nyota's neck are evidence of such abuse she does not deserve. When I make her my bride, she will be safe with me. You must understand, Caroline, that I cannot merely court her like an ordinary man. I must obey my most animalistic of instincts, lure her into my home and coax her into a world where she will be guarded and given the greatest of luxuries. My empress of the London underground domain I created."

Carol could only listen in quiet disbelief as she witnessed his ethereal face disappearing into the black oblivion and the lighted match extinguished into smoke.

"It is only a matter of time, dear Caroline. Nyota is mine and only she can keep this company from being burnt to the ground by giving me her love."

A shiver violated Carol's spine as her shaking hand found the glass opening to the mirror and she pushed herself through. The echo of Khan's boastful menace rang and vibrated through her ears as her weakened mind managed to think.

_He will walk over our charred corpses to recover the one woman who torments what little humanity he has remaining. The only question is: Will he also kill me to obtain Nyota?_

.

.

Nyota enfolded a dark blue shawl about her shoulders, trying to keep her hands from trembling with anxiety as she prepared for her descent into Khan's domain. Initially, she had to build up the amount of courage in her heart if she was to keep from going insane with fear.

She knew that any success she could have received in her career was not worth threatening everyone who worked for the company.

_I cannot tell anyone of this bargain between me and him. Nobody needs to come to my rescue. This war is only among the student and teacher. _

Her fingers managed to coil her ebony locks of hair into a single braid, the soles of her shoes shielding her feet from the creaking sounds of the floorboards. The garment she wore were a simple nightdress of a dark scarlet, enveloped with soft material so would still be comfortable. Her dressing room had never felt more suffocating than in those few moments, awaiting his arrival.

She prayed nobody would come knocking upon the door as she stood in anticipation, reveling in the silence of the nocturnal setting in the building. Secretly, she had preferred the darkness of night over the bright and exposing light of sun…

Nyota had been giving time over the last twelve hours to deliberate over Khan's plans to woo her over as any man would covet a woman's heart. She had also wondered why he had refused to discuss the reason of the mask that covered his reasonably handsome face.

While she was still young and budding in her blossoming career, she certainly did not consider herself to be stupid. His behavior around her made her feel like an object to be conquered and controlled. She had to use her mind to fight this tyrant who claimed to love her with all his darkened soul, to not be robbed of her free will.

He had given her timeline of submitting to his intentions, and so in return, Nyota would give him the same. She would learn more about him and find out his reasons for such desperate measures he would take to make her belong to him.

She would face his retaliations if his strategies were to turn against him. Nyota decided in that moment as the glass surface of the mirror opened and revealed her shadowed guardian, his luminescent eyes locked onto her position as if she were a target, that she would fight to keep control of her own self.

She would give herself up to protect her co-workers, and be imprisoned in the lion's den.

Words were not needed to communicate in those few seconds. He was dressed in his customary black, the hooded cloak being pulled away from his face to show that he meant no predatory intent. Khan held out his bare hand for Nyota to take. She reached forward with slight hesitation, briefly shocked at how warm his palm was against hers without the gloves. His fingers clasped around her knuckles in a tender grasp and she was surprised at how she felt no urge to pull away from him.

As if her survival instincts were fading and the potential danger had vanished.

"My eyes are more accustomed to this type of darkness than yours, dear Nyota. If you prefer so, I could carry you to prevent injury to yourself." His thunderous voice surrounded her entire being, even at the pleasant level it was placed. There was no sarcasm or sense of mocking her naivety. It was a genuine offer to guarantee her safety.

_You cannot be swayed so easily, Nyota. You are a plaything that he fears breaking into many pieces._

"C…Certainly, if it does not inconvenience you." Nyota was somewhat anxious to get out of this damp catacomb of hidden hazards. The faster, the better…

"It is no trouble, my dear. You are as light as a feather." A rare chuckle of amusement emerged from his voice as he bent down and swept Nyota's feet out from underneath her, his arm positioned beneath her knees.

A startled gasp erupted from her mouth as his other arm caught her shoulders in a quick, but planned action. By instinct, her arms enfolded around his neck. The length of his opposite arm firmly held the middle of her back, possibly to give her assurance that he would not drop her.

"Are you frightened, Nyota?" His rumbled whisper made its way to her ear as her heart rate began to decrease into its normal rate. "Do not be. As long as you trust me, nothing will ever harm you."

She heard the soft clunking of his boots as they began their way down a flight of stairs and Nyota began to go against her judgment and relax in his arms. She had to believe his words even if she dared not to.

"I'm not afraid, Khan. I…I just need time to adjust to this arrangement between us." The motion of his gait as he carried her down to the bottom of the staircase alerted her senses to his great strength. His movement was stealthy, as if her weight meant little to his efforts of transportation.

Trying to change the subject and save them both from the silence, she asked him with curiosity.

"Is this how you took me down to your home after Marcus attacked me?" She readjusted her arms around his neck, feeling the tough fabric of the cloak's hood brushing her elbow.

"Yes, it is. As you can imagine, I was dreadfully filled with rage and worry about you being harmed, your triumphant glory being smeared with fear by your own employer. That is part of the reason why I long to make your home in living with me." The sincere vulnerability in his voice caught Nyota off-guard as she listened with care. "If I had not stopped him in time, he could have easily killed you."

"I…I'm sorry you had to see me like that." She offered an apology before she could stop herself. Why on earth did she feel the need to say sorry to him? Then again, the damage done would have been worse if Khan had not interfered and rendered Marcus physically injured.

"It is no fault of yours. You did not anticipate such a turn of events. I am glad that you have recovered and pleased to have seen that you tried to elude him." Khan felt his lips turn up into a brief smile, something so rare for him. He could count on one hand how many times he had truly smiled.

"I do not believe I ever properly thanked you for saving my life." Nyota's voice had softened into a whisper as well as Khan ceased his walking pace and looked into the dark eyes of the soprano in his arms. "I am grateful. Truly I am."

Nyota knew she had to forget her fears for now, remain level-headed and steadfast, but she also had to remain on amiable terms with him should he intend to carry out his threat.

"You're welcome, Nyota. There is nothing I would not do to protect you from the cruel outside world." His words made her heart drop into despair. He would eventually lock her up in his gilded cage, wanting to 'keep her safe'. But she would not give in so easily.

In all her internal debating as their conversation came to an end and he continued carrying her down through the dank cellars, she knew the entire truth of his motivations. She was just an obsession to him, an fixation that centered around his every action and thought.

He claimed that he truly did love her. Perhaps he did, in the only way he knew how. In a possessive and manipulative motivation to commit the most heinous of crimes. He would do _absolutely anything_ to have Nyota for himself.

If she could stop him from hurting others to get to her, she could possibly respect him in return, after all he was doing for her. She could only deliberate further as she began to feel secure in his arms, in a grip that would be wary of releasing.

If he truly _did _love Nyota, would he have the decency to release her from the chains that restrained their hearts from connecting as a man and woman?

She rested her head on his shoulder in exhaustion as she felt his lips gently press to her forehead. Her mind told her that she was not safe with this man, but her feelings depicted otherwise.

Nyota promised herself that she would gain the bravery to challenge Khan with the ultimatum that would either heal or sever their bond.

_If you really love me, would you find it in your heart to let me go? To not take me by force?_

**AN: I know, this chapter is kinda filler-ish, but I'm really running on fumes here. ****Enjoy and please review! Thanks and Happy New Year!**


	8. Author's Note (URGENT!)

_**I know this isn't a real chapter, but I've gotta be honest, you guys. I should have realized this idea for a story was stupid. There's no way these two worlds can blend without being ridiculous and OOC. A fellow comrade on this site helpfully pointed out the sheer stupidity and the impossibility of this story not working at all. Now, I feel like such an idiot for even trying. Now, I'm really leaning toward deleting this tale.**_

_**My writing is "awkward" and makes little sense, apparently. Yes, my writing is not perfect but this whole idea of Star Trek characters in the 'Phantom' setting is totally unbelievable. Heck, some reviews even said this very statement. Now, I'm sorry for even embarrassing myself and posting this pathetic piece. Let's face facts: Khan is not the same as Erik/Phantom. Same with Uhura being different from Christine.**_

_**In the next few days, with school starting back up, I may delete this soon. I don't want to, but I feel that this story is a complete waste and I've finally realized that now. I thank you all for reviewing and favoriting this story. Have a great new year and have fun writing.**_

_**If I think of something worthwhile, I'll post it when I can. Thank you all again!**_


End file.
